Interlude Beneath Botticelli
by Rigel99
Summary: There is no escape for Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, unless they choose to escape into each other. Sandro Botticelli lends a muse or two. (Mr Bryan Fuller is my muse.)


"Every crime of yours feels like one I am guilty of. Not just Abigail's murder, but every murder stretching backward and forward in time," Will said softly.

"Then what's left to do? Freeing yourself from me and me freeing myself from you, they're the same," replied Hannibal, shifting his body closer to bring his arm into contact with Will's. His gaze explored the lines of his face, as his hand followed their path to ghost his fingertips along his temple. Will flinched under the unexpected contact.

"It is most agreeable to see you again, Will."

"What are you doing, Hannibal?," asked Will, the confusion in his eyes barely concealed.

"I am introducing another dynamic to our renewed relationship, Will. Do you approve?," he whispered against his cheek.

"I— I'm not sure…," he replied hesitantly not yet making any move to resist Hannibal's attentions, his eyes slipping shut under Hannibal's assault of his jawline.

Hannibal ran his hand down Will's side and reached into his pocket to pull out the knife. He put it into his own pocket without pausing the feathersoft lingering brush of lips against Will's neck.

"And there I was thinking you were just happy to see me. How foolish of me," he murmured. He drew back and followed Will's eyes.

"Beautiful, is it not?," he asked, watching Will intently in his attempts to ground himself by focussing on La Primavera before them.

"Breathtaking," Will whispered. He shook his head and drew himself along the seat and out of Hannibal's immediate space. "Somewhat overwhelming, I'd venture to say."

Not to be deterred, Hannibal followed, moving along the bench to wrap his aura around the hesitant but intrigued empath, curiosity piqued by this turn of events.

"Tell me, Will. When you gaze upon Botticelli's arguably finest work, what do you see?"

"It's more what— I feel…"

"Oh? And what do you feel?," Hannibal enquired, as a confident hand came to rest on the small of Will's back.

"You, as the wind, surrounding me, touching me relentlessly, ignoring my denial, my resistance to your cold allure."

"Then you see yourself as Chloris? As I swoop down to free you from your self-defined trappings to make you mine?," Hannibal asked, continuing his gentle caress while drinking in the effect his touch was eliciting on Will.

Will stood and stepped closer to the painting, trying to clear his mind of the seductive sound of Hannibal's voice.

"Chloris had no choice but to surrender to Zyphrus. Defined as she is by the season she represents."

"And you think you have a choice, Will?," asked Hannibal, rising himself and stepping up behind him, his warm breath imprinting the words on the nape of Will's neck.

"Where you and I are concerned? I would like to think so."

"What we like to think and what is by design are up for debate," he replied, placing warm, strong hands on Will's waist. He didn't resist Hannibal's move as he turned him so as to face each other.

He looked at Hannibal's lips with an expression of curiosity, a curiosity Hannibal would be more than content to satisfy, though not before Will asked, "And you Hannibal. What do you see?"

He tilted his head and brought his attention back to the canvas. "I had thought I had discovered all La Primavera had to offer until this moment." He kept his hands on Will's waist as he drew them both back towards the bench and continued. "I do tend to think of you as my Chloris, the endless supply of burgeoning fertility you lavish on my mind."

He sat down and guided Will into the place beside him. "Now, I also consider the gaze of Love as she watches Mercury, the first blossoming of attraction, our roles interchangeable between the two. We are moving beyond our neoplatonic sensibilities, past the canvas of what is before our eyes."

Hannibal leaned his body into Will's, gently pushing him down to lay on the bench, hands resting either side of Will's reclining head on the flat surface beneath. "That said, I would still wish to be your Zephyrus, should you choose to allow it…"

The first kiss was unexpectedly soft and gentle, Will easing into the move with a familiarity that belied the time they had been apart. With small reluctance, Hannibal drew back, even as Will attempted to maintain the surprisingly enrapturing contact. He sat up, pulling Will close, placing his lips on his temple as he spoke.

"Now's the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from wanting this. Allowing us. Can you do that, Will?"

Will's shallow, husked breath supplied agreement enough. For now. "I can try, Hannibal."

Hannibal rose slowly. "Then try we shall. After you, Will," he said, raising an outstretched open palm towards the entrance.

Following, Hannibal took one last look at his beloved La Primavera, before closing the door to the room in his memory palace where he now sat with his beautiful Empath by his side.


End file.
